This and That and a Here-and-Therian

Forgive the fragmented post, my dears, but I had so many things I wanted to share, and none were really large enough to warrant a post on their own. So, here are five things to amuse you on a Friday:

One
Those of you who like sparklies may want to check out this post by historical author Tara Cohen about a nineteenth century set of jewels held by the Swedish Royal Treasury. Drool worthy!

Two
Some of you may remember our posts on nineteenth century country dances, such as this one by guest blogger Gail Eastwood. Now, thanks to RegencyDances.org, there’s a wonderful resource online for learning the steps. They’ve even provided animation so you can envision what the couples would be doing. Interesting and entertaining!

Three
During our birthday house party, Lo suggested that we host more current authors of YA set in the nineteenth century. We’re delighted that next week Jennifer Bradbury will be joining us to talk about her book, Wrapped. Hint: It’s a perfect lead in to Halloween!

Four
October 30 is the 200th anniversity of the publication of Sense and Sensibility and officially Talk Like Jane Austen Day. To celebrate, Marissa and I will be guest blogging at SOS Aloha. Stop by and say hi, or should I say, offer us your esteemed company, if you have a chance.

Five
A here-and-therian was a fellow who couldn’t commit to anything (a bit like this post), who traveled about with no set home or preferred to chase women rather than catch them; as in “I truly thought Englebert would propose this time, but he’s such a here-and-therian that I suppose I’ll never bring him up to snuff!”

Happy Friday!

Picture Makes Perfect, Part 2

Oh, those lips, those eyes, that hair! Pick a feature! In the days before photography, how did one memorialize the beauty of your one true love? If you couldn’t afford a formal portrait or you wanted something to carry next to your heart, you had a couple of options.

One was the miniature. As the name implies, this was a small picture, anywhere from the size of a paperback book to the oval that fit into a jeweled setting. Artists specialized in capturing a loved one’s likeness in tiny lines in watercolor or gouache on ivory or enamel on copper. Children, sweethearts, and even your favorite pet were painted. You might also purchase a miniature to remember visiting some far off sight: sets showing features of Greece, Italy, and Venice were popular. The miniatures might be mounted in larger frames, tucked into lockets, or set in brooches, pendants, or rings.

But sometimes, it wasn’t appropriate for you to be carrying around someone else’s likeness, or carrying that likeness was bitter sweet. Perhaps you couldn’t marry your love, or your dear husband had died young on the battlefield. You could commission a painting of just your lover’s eye. Hidden in a locket, no one would know but you. And even if they saw the picture, they would be hard pressed to prove who it portrayed.

Legend has it when the Prince of Wales was in love with Maria Fitzherbert and forbidden from legally marrying her without forfeiting the crown, he commissioned a painting of his eye for her and her eye for him. This he could wear against his heart without anyone being the wiser. He must have shown it about sufficiently, however, for “lover’s eyes” as they are now called, became quite the rage. Later people chose them to remember someone who had died.

So, here are a couple of eye miniatures of two writers you happen to know. See if you can tell which is which.